A cold, hollow ache spreads through my chest.
I nod, slow and stiff, then manage a weak, “If she kicks me out… can I move in here?”
Dad shakes his head immediately.
“If your wife kicks you out,” he says, “you act like a man…” Standing with a grunt and patting my shoulder, he finishes, “…and you camp out in the backyard.”
Chapter Six
“The kid in Room Three says his IV hurts.”
I take the chart from the nurse. “He hasn’t been transferred yet?”
She rolls her eyes. “Peds is full.”
I roll mine right back. Departments love playing thewe’re fullcard. What are we supposed to do if there are no beds left in the ER, lay patients out on the floor?
I head toward Room Three, irritation buzzing under my skin. I wasn’t scheduled to work today. But after spending the entire morning obsessing over the hair and the perfume on Patrick’s shirt, my brain felt like a hamster wheel on fire. So, I drove here instead.
We’re always short-staffed, so no one questioned me walking in, grabbing a coat, and jumping on the board.
My overactive mind keeps coming up with love nests and affairs while my rational side keeps insisting the truth is completely innocent. Patrick is a man with integrity. He’s loyal. He doesn’t sneak around.
I square my shoulders, paste on my professional smile, and step inside.
“Hey, kiddo,” I say gently. “Heard your IV is bothering you.”
The rest of the morning goes by in a blur of charts, accidents and loved ones with google. It’s annoying but exactly what I need.
By the time lunch rolls around, our chief starts his rounds. I’m checking a clipboard when he pauses mid-step.
“Dr. Boise,” he says, blinking at me. “Aren’t you off today?”
I straighten, caught like a kid with her hand in the cookie jar. “Sir, I just had some time and-”
He lifts one brow.
“I… needed a distraction,” I admit quietly.
He exhales the most dramatic sigh a man his age has ever produced. “Well next time you need a distraction, go to the movies. Or Target. Or literally anywhere that doesn’t involve malpractice risks and sleep deprivation.” He eyes me with a pointed frown. “You know we have an issue with doctors burning out.”
I’m about to argue,I’m not tired, I’m fine, I needed this, but instead a giant yawn tears itself out of my mouth.
He crosses his arms. “Don’t make me put you on maternity leave early.”
I glare at him, but it comes out more petulant than intimidating. “Yes, sir.”
“Go home, Boise.”
With a sigh, I turn to walk off. Normally you can’t talk to the chief like that, chiefs are terrifying, untouchable creatures who only descend from their lairs to lecture or scold.
But Dr. Pratt isn’t just the chief. He was my mentor all through internship and residency. He was at my wedding. He held Milo when he was a baby.
He’s earned the right to boss me around like a grumpy uncle, and I’ve earned the right to react like a petulant child.
Still, embarrassment creeps hot up my neck as I head toward the lockers. I’ve never been called out before, not even foroverworking.
I’m a mom, and thankfully I work in a place where my colleagues are more than willing to cover for me when I need to run to Milo’s school functions, just like I keep myself available when they need help while I’m off-shift.
